Robert sucked in a sharp breath. “Dallying? There’s no evidence of dallying in your photographs.”

“Sir, if I may…” The detective opened the notebook and glanced down a couple of pages. “The photographs were taken at a party given by a pair of notorious pagan artists. Dutch, if you please. Your wife was in Mr. Monteray’s company for the better part of a long night. She remained in his company after the party decamped to a mansion on the Rue de Lille. At this further ‘party,’ guests were seen to strip naked, jump into a bath together and engage in carnal acts…It’s all here, sir, if you’d like to see the notes made by my colleague Monsieur Cannes.”

“No, thank you. Are you trying to tell me that my wife was one of the people who stripped naked and engaged in…?”

Felperstone drew out his snuffbox. “No, sir. But doesn’t it worry you to think of Mrs. Shelby King dabbling among these Bohemian types? Hanging about in the most notorious Montparnasse bars and cafés? Going to parties where people take all their clothes off and get in the bath together and engage in…?”

Robert returned the photographs to their envelope and shoved them back across the table. “All I see here is my wife dancing with a man at a party. Yes, my wife hangs about with artists and Bohemians. But there’s nothing you’ve told me that suggests she’s done more than talk and dance with these people. She’d do as much right in front of me.”

“And what of Mr. Monteray?”

“Frankly, I don’t know why I’m even discussing this with you.” He’d spoken louder than he meant to, and the waiter was looking over quizzically. He lowered his voice as he continued. “It seems to me, Mr. Felperstone, that you are going off on something of a tangent.”

Felperstone, about to start his infernal snorting, paused with the snuff pinched between his fingers. “Perhaps so, but…”

“I hired you to find out what happened to my wife when she was a girl. Have you made any progress on that front? Any news of the friend—little whatsname—or anyone else from the school? I am not paying you to follow Mrs. Shelby King around and take pictures of her and her friends.”

“I see.” Felperstone opened his fingers, so that the snuff drifted like dust on the still air, settling on the tabletop. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to give offense.” He picked up his hat. “But you know, in this job, one starts to get a nose for things. I’ve never yet been wrong in a matter such as this. Of course, I should have stuck to my original remit, but…Well, I just don’t like to see a decent man like yourself being played for a fool.”

Fool. That most hideous of words.